


Independently of Itself

by Spaghettiforpapy



Series: Wants Over Needs [1]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series), Helluva Boss (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chatting & Messaging, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Sex, Mature because of language, Minor Violence, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reminder that this is hell and hell is messed up, Social Media, Swearing, Tags May Change, Warnings May Change, but some do reference characters, character exploration, good things happen in hell sometimes, how do I even tag this, some screennames are madeup
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:21:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28476081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spaghettiforpapy/pseuds/Spaghettiforpapy
Summary: Many artists fall to Hell. Many fall and give up their passions and throw themselves at the feet of exterminators. Many fall and try to pursue their wants but their drive to survive override it. On the rare occasion do artists make it in Hell.Singers, mostly, and dancers that usually wind up on a pole. Sometimes painters for the more noble families. At times musicians.Syla is an author. She dies. She falls. And she keeps on writing nonetheless.It all works out, somehow.---AKA: demons are starved for good creative content, there's a reason we liked immersing ourselves in fictional worlds when we were alive. this starts off a chain reaction of inspiration.
Series: Wants Over Needs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2085723
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, this is a bit experimental, but I've been thinking about it for a while anyways. 
> 
> This fic will be a slow build, slowly expanding to the points of view of many other characters as it goes on. I'm not good at crafting a fake story in a story, which is ironic but shhhh. The point of it is to inspire emotions in the characters themselves. 
> 
> Like I've been reading a lot of tearjerkers and fluffy pieces recently and I was like... hey what if an author that was in hell in the hazbin hotel universe did that kinda stuff and demons didnt know how to cope? So here we are
> 
> Lots of small au things

**_SmuttyFic.666 _ **

  
  


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_Welcome and eat shit, @_ **_InkTailBrush_ **

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**_New comment(s) under_ ** **_Chapter One_** ** _of_ ** **_Equal Sins_ ** **_._ **

-

 **_Biggus_Chungus @_ ** _IMP4Life_

based and Gay. 

-

 **_TWOGLITCH @_ ** _SpadeT_Tail_

Wat the fuck? Smth that isnt porn on this site? U do kno ur in hell rite, u can be as nasty as u want lnao 

* * *

It's disappointing. 

But not completely unexpected. 

Her tail anxiously bats at the wooden floorboards beneath her chair, clawed fingers anxiously digging into the fur of the cheap mouse she bought at half price at the nearby Walmart, making it squeak under the pressure. Only a few stores from Earth really translated into Hell, and Walmart was one of many corporate overlords that managed to worm their way into the afterlife. 

It made sense, though. Only Hell would have three Walmarts on the same street, all next to each other and identical, only broken up by a McDahmer's (Now Selling Baby Brain Smoothies!) on either side. Whenever she passed by she had to watch the three managers, each from a different Walmart, glare at each other from across parking lots. They never blinked, only puffing on cheap cigarettes as they murderously stared at each other until their lunch break was over. 

Them being outside meant it was easier to shoplift things from the inside, which therefore meant that the Walmarts Three were all the more popular during noon. That made it no less easier to get a hold of her own laptop and mousepad, but somehow she was able to get away without being stampeded by demons eager to grab a widescreen and book it as if they wouldn't be chased down the minute they stepped into the parking lot. 

If Syla felt guilty on behalf of her fellow demons, enough so to tip the pissed off Imp cashier- the ONLY cashier in the entire damned trifecta of buildings, somehow, who managed to juggle three jobs from three different stores under the same names- a little extra souls then nobody had to know. She did get the price of her mouse practically cut in half on the behest of the suddenly more chipper Imp afterwards, which she thinks is a plus. 

That same mouse was about to break under her fingers, though. She needed a stress ball. Badly. Those crumpled wads of paper holding discarded half thoughts and doodles and concepts upon concepts strewn about her tiny, rundown apartment weren't enough to sate her frustration and jittery anxiety, especially now that she's some god-awful cross between a hummingbird and a rabbit. 

She'd only gotten two comments on her story. A bit understandable, given that it's posted on a forum dedicated to smut and, well… demons weren't the most engaging of audiences. 

The five notifications were slightly more promising. One bookmark, three "meh"s, one "go choke on a dick and die in a puddle of acid". The liking and disliking system on the website was strange and weird, but Syla's experienced worse in her lifetime. Besides, someone cared enough to dislike her story! That was something good in and of itself, right? 

Her shoulders were still tense, though. The downy gray feathers that covered most of her body from her neck down were puffed up in anticipation as her yellow eyes were trained on the screen. 

It… didn't make it any less disappointing, though. Her grip relaxed on the mouse, letting it sigh in relief. Even in Hell she didn't get the attention she wanted. 

No, it wasn't _attention_ she wanted exactly- it was- it-

Something pinged on her screen in a horrible, seizure inducing flash of colors. Her eyes lit up and she quickly clicked on the new comment- a new comment!- that appeared on _Equal Sins_ , expertly evading the ads and clickbait that popped up upon moving between pages. 

**_—_ **

**_New comment(s) under_ ** **_Chapter One_** ** _of_ ** **_Equal Sins_ ** **_._ **

**_-_ **

**_thotsnprayers @_ ** _Sinnamon_Roll_

Jesusssss fuck man. yknow, I didn't expect to see an honest to GOD try at writing an actual story on this dumpster bin hellsite. But fuckit! Show me what ya got next for us, Ink. 

—

Elation. Excitement. A souring wave of emotions that built up into a crescendo of happiness inside of Syla, a little ball that bounced rapidly between her heart and then her throat and all the way back down into her stomach, not knowing where to stop spreading the happiness to. 

This was maybe the first rush of serotonin she received ever since she landed in Hell. Maybe even before that. Syla couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so happy. 

Immediately she opened a new tab on her computer, once again avoiding the popups, and quickly opened up her documents. It was glitchy, and the text font was limited to three different types, and it deleted itself if you didn't save every ten to twenty minutes of writing, but it was worth it it turned out. 

The motivation was like none before. The ideas that she'd previously neglected, left on the wayside because she was too anxious about people _not liking it_ were quickly picked up and brushed off before being implemented gently into her writing. Her art. This shitty program was her canvas, and the words were her masterpiece. 

Fuck it all if nobody else wants to read what she has to write except for whoever _thotsnprayers_ was, but she'll be damned if she lets that sliver of validation, that one interaction that told her that she was good at _something,_ slip from her fingertips before she could mold it into something bigger. 

Three new chapters were posted in the next two days. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright alright, another chapter!
> 
> Sorry for taking so long, I finished half of it and had to tske a little break before inspiration found me again and kicked me into overdrive. 
> 
> Feel free to guess some of the screenames and what characters they may be! Theres about three canon characters on the forums so far, and a new one that texted the "mysterious" Sinnamon_Roll/thotsandprayers. 
> 
> I think you guys might figure it out really quickly though, lol.

**_SmuttyFic.666 _ **

  
  


**The slowest growing self-publishing site for sissies that spend their time writing about feelings or some other bullshit. You know what you're here for, you self isolated neet. Have fun with our shitty layout!**

**—**

_Welcome and eat shit, @_ **_Sinnamon_Roll_ **

_You have_ _1_ _ne_ _w private message(s). Loser._

 _You have_ _0_ _n_ _ew comment(s). Coward._

 _You have_ _4_ _n_ _ew notifications._

 _Your account is set to_ _do not disturb. _ _Feel free to make your account public when you finally grow some balls._

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—

**_< <_ ** **** **_<_ ** **** **_Chapter Four_ ** **_of_ ** **_Equal Sins_ **

_… but Milo had nary a clue what these men wanted with him._

_Unless… no, it couldn't have been! There was no way any man, be he a thief, peasant, or a king, would have knowledge of his secret talents. The only people who did was mother, and-_

_The wagon jumped and rattled, before coming to a sudden halt. Milo lurched in his seat, falling to his knees. The sack tied around his head was pulled off in a rush of wind, and he was left gasping for the air deprived from him._

_Standing in front of him, towering, almost, from his perspective, as if the locks of gold on his head brushed the clouds above him, was a man whose face was covered in layers upon layers of scars. The raised, pink tissue was shiny under the sun beating down on them, and half of his hair was missing in lieu of more scars._

_Milo had only a second to wonder what happened to this poor man until he caught sight of the twisted smile stretching across his face. He sucked in a breath as he realized he was surrounded on all sides by men of similarly imposing presence._

_He suddenly felt very, very small._

_"Who- where am I?" He demanded, craning his neck around his shoulder to get a better look at things. They'd moved him far from the valley and into a dense forest. They were setting up camp, from the looks of things._

_"He speaks!" The scarred man clapped his hands. His voice was raspy. "I was starting to think that you'd lost your silk tongue."_

_The oppressive aura around his kidnappers thickened considerably. The village boy's shoulders hunched up to hug his ears._

_The scarred man took a step closer, his languid grin only growing in relish at his discomfort. "Hey, hey, no need to be scared," the fact that his voice sounded like two boulders grinding against one another did nothing to lessen the perturbed feeling of hearing a man like this trying to… coo… at him. "You want to know where you are, hm?"_

_He glanced to his compatriots, his fellow thieves-in-arms, and then back at Milo. "I suppose it'll make it easier to deal with you in the long run," he mused," so you don't try anything stupid like running off. You see this forest? There's no life within it, and no life outside of it. Historically, it's been_ barren. Absolutely barren. _No fish in the stream. No birds in the trees. No bears. Nothing. At. All."_

_Milo's heart quickened. "No. You didn't… you took me to…"_

_"That's right. The true Deadlands," he reached out and abruptly plucked a bushel of berries growing from a bush on his right. They were red and ripe, thick with juices. Saliva pooled in Milo's mouth, but a sick feeling encased him at the same time. "Everything that grows here is poisonous enough to get an assassin's trousers wet with anticipation. Even if you run, there'd be no food… and certain death all around."_

_"You doomed us. Me, you, and your gang of thugs!" Milo exclaimed, a surge of bravery and outrage suddenly shooting throughout him. "Because it's not just_ poison _that grows here, it's-"_

"I know."

_He stopped short, and gaped at this insane man._

_The scarred man smiled again, but this time Milo could see it for what it really was- not bravery nor arrogance; not malice nor sadism… it was the glint of fangs in a predator's mouth, it was the shimmer of a razor's edge at the precipice of death. It was the welcoming of doom._

_It was the uncaring knowledge of their certain demise; the idea of a man going down as long as he gets what he wants and drags as many others down with him._

_"The draugr of this forest don't bother me, nor do the liches, or the necromancers, or even the fabled wendigos and beasties and ghoulies," his eyes lidded, fogged with an unrecognizable emotion. "You are here because no one who cares will hear you, see you, or find you."_

—

**_Comment(s) under_ ** **_Chapter Four_ ** **_of_ ** **_Equal Sins_ ** **_._ **

**_Page (1) of (1)_ **

**_-_ **

**_Biggus_Chungus @_ ** _IMP4Life_

Gaaaaaaaaaayyyyyy ×100000

**_> Biggest_Chungiest @_ ** _IMP5Life_

What's gae is that I'm bigger than u hoe 

**_-_ **

**_GiGiBoy @_ ** _webitchin_

Wtf is this Shakespearean tragedy lookin ass bs, why isnt milo fuckin standing up for himself? He's BASICALLY NOBILITY NOW these dudes are like cockroaches compared to him smh 

**_> MucAround @_ ** _dirteedirtee_

bc he's kidnapped by them u fuckin walnut it's not like he can bust himself out if hes a hostage

**_> >GiGiBoy @_ ** _webitchin_

we still dont even kno WHY hes kidnapped like we get that hes the silk speaker and whatever but still?? what's with this whole ominous talk about his dad and necromancers and shit? Why cant the author fuckin lay it out straight and narrow just tell us what ur getting at ffs 

**_> >>MucAround @_ ** _dirteedirtee_

dude the only thing i been reading for past 3 yrs in hell is porn nd even i kno that's not how books work

**_-_ **

**_QueenieWeenie @_ ** _scaremebi_

maybe it's just my villain fetish but the scarred man can raw me 

**_> bigeyefreak @_ ** _bigol_eye_

Get summmmmm

**_> InkyPen @_ ** _InkTailBrush_

Wow. Uhm… good… luck? 

**_-_ **

**_forktonguedlord @_ ** _missster_snakeeyes_

Marvelousss! Truly, it's been a long while sssince I've ssstumbled across new worksss of fiction down in thessse partsss of Hell, and an even longer while sssince I've found one worthy of even a sssingle modicum of praissse. Perhapsss thisss new modern era isssn't so bad- I do hope to see thisss continue. You don't find many promisssing authors down here, amateurish as they may be.

**_> bigeyefreak @_ ** _bigol_eye_

Lord?! Your here too?!?! How'd you find this I thot i was the only one??? I thot u hated porn wtf why do you have an account nyways

**_> >forktonguedlord @_ ** _missster_snakeeyes_

I will tolerate your abhorrent abussse of punctuation marksss for thisss last time, Eye. Your spelling missstakesss are on thin ice. Asss for your quessstion, well, I know _everything_ and I am _everywhere_. 

*You're *thought *I *thought *you *what the fuck *anyways

**_> >>bigeyefreak @_ ** _bigol_eye_

Bitch… Im… 

**_> >>>forktonguedlord @_ ** _missster_snakeeyes_

*I'm. :} 

**_-_ **

**_thotsnprayers @_ ** _Sinnamon_Roll_

Fucking nice, three new chapters. Ya know I usually just use this site to get inspiration for new films and shit (ppl here are creative dirty little fucks ;) ) but goddamn if i ain't putting that down for this 

So… I'm lost. What the fuck is a silk speaker again? Why is this milo dude so important for being one? 

**_> InkyPen @_ ** _InkTailBrush_

I've been reading your comments on the past few chapters, and I need to apologize for not replying any sooner! I've been caught up with writing at least a chapter a day as my goal, and irl things (coughturfwarscough) aren't helping much either. 

Silk Speaking is a nobility-born trait that allows the person to reach through "the veil of the dead" (aka literally our Hell, except more medievalized), usually used and cultivated by necromancers like I mentioned in Chapter Two. Milo's been established as "not nobility", but since it's been revealed that he's a Silk Speaker it means that he's both a bastard child of a Noble and that there could be more like him spreading this trait to the lower class!

It'll make more sense as I go on, promise!! Sorry for rambling!!!

**_> >thotsnprayers @_ ** _Sinnamon_Roll_

Nah nah, it's fine. Im pretty fuckin dense when it comes to this stuff, to be honest, so you can lay it on as thick as ya want. Really thick. And hard, too. Just jackhammer it in there if ya can. 

How bout you dm me? I've got a few more questions

**___________**

It was an out of body experience, interacting so casually with other users online. Especially on SmuttyFic- the place that was dirty enough to even give _him_ a run for his money. 

He stared at his computer for a second, and then a minute, as the prompt to send a message to _@InkTailBrush_ blinked at him. InkyPen had dmed him surprisingly fast, asking him if he had any further questions. He was almost taken aback- that kinda promptness was usually reserved for the desperate and the lonely, the sad fucks who wallowed in their own filth, never left their homes, and licked up any sort of attention they got. 

He didn't know if InkyPen was anywhere near being that sort of person, but who was he to say? They could very well be some loser leet who's only source of happiness was posting chapters of- an albeit really good fucking story- to an online _smut_ forum. 

His sharp teeth bit into his plush bottom lip, one of many pretty things about his body. He was one of the few lucky sinners to not arrive in Hell looking like a fermented elderberry straight from a grandpa's puckered asshole, and there were plenty of freaks around desperate enough to fall over their feet for the first pretty face they saw. 

Not to say he didn't like it- sure, it's kind of dull when the only line of conversation you ever have with someone is if they're fidgeting outside your room like a nervous little weirdo asking if you've got all your shots and shit, but the pay was more than enough. 

… it was a bit nice, however, when someone was asking about what he felt and thought about something genuinely. Sure, it's still about something he's _receiving_ , but it's… ugh. Ugh! Argh! 

He shoved his face in his hands, his soft hands, his long-fingered hands, and dragged them down his face as he let out a long-suffering groan. Sex was never this complicated! You just get in, hope the fuck doesn't last more than thirty minutes knowing the virgin you're hooking up with, and then get out with the cash and phone number on an piece of paper that was _totally not an oily fast food receipt_ that you throw away as soon as possible. 

Why was demon interaction so hard? Socializing was never this hard when he was alive! Sure, he barely talked to anyone outside his family, and, sure, he only insulted and was insulted by everyone he ever talked to, and, sure, he never really had any _genuine_ friends that weren't interested in the same debauchery as he was, and… 

Fuck. He really is socially inept. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

He covered his eyes this time, and then peaked out at the screen in front of him between his fingers. The cursor blinked once. Twice. Three times. 

A hesitant hand reaches out. Typed out a few letters. Pressed send. 

He stared at the new image that the screen displayed. 

—

 _You are now in a private conversation with_ ** _@InkyTailBrush._** _Try not to get too excited about someone making room for you in their life, you sad degenerate._

  
  


**_@InkyTailBrush_ ** _began the conversation!_

**_@InkyTailBrush_ ** _changed their name to_ **_InkyPen_ ,** _like the picky little shit they are._

  
  


_12:06 PM_

**_InkyPen:_ ** _Haha, priorities, amiright? Sorry, I just HAD HAD HAD to change my name._

**_InkyPen:_ ** _But uhmmm anyways, this is sooo unprofessional I'm real sorry bout that, you said you wanted me to dm you?_

**_InkyPen:_ ** _You had questions about the story, right? I'm assuming. I don't want to assume, but, uh, I'll assume. Anyways._

**_InkyPen:_ ** _Oh crud, I forgot- Hi! How're ya doing?_

  
  


**_@Sinnamon_Roll_** _joined the conversation!_

**_@Sinnamon_Roll_ ** _changed their name to_ **_angelthot_**! _Wow, I can practically smell the daddy issues off of you._

  
  


_12:10 PM_

**_angelthot:_ ** _heya sugar. doing super fucking great right now- im with the planes, if you get my drift_

**_InkyPen:_ ** _Hell has active flights?? To where??? I thought that we could only stay in the Pride circle?????_

**_angelthot_ ** _: … oh honey, you've got a big storm coming_

**_InkyPen:_ ** _we have storms too?!??_

—

A huff of laughter escaped his lips. Either they're really good at feigning ignorance, or they're really just that green. 

How long's it been since he's had a one-on-one with a newbie? Certainly the first time he wasn't propositioned by one, or doing the propositioning, or doing the killing. 

It… it was-

His phone buzzed and he jumped out of his seat, getting tangled in his fuzzy bathrobe as he dived for the phone on his bed. Shit, maybe Sugartits got a win on that slimy freak from downtown! He unlocked the phone with a quiet wail emanating from it- the lowest possible volume setting it could go on- and opened up his messages. 

  
—

**_Piratebitch 💣🍒_ **

_11:20_

_: lunchbreak time biiitch_

_: th at means u cant be an ant_

_: antisocial little fuck_

_: FUCK_

_: get ur sweet ass over here_

_: >o))) _

_11:45_

_: where the fuck r u_

_: im at ur work and ur not even here??_

_: dude come out_

_: seriously ur fucking boss is here_

_: grilled me and shit_

_: scary long legged freak bitch shit_

_: FUCK come on dude he's outside_

_: with me btw_

_: he looks super pissed_

_: I love u but_

_: bitch come out b4 he kills me_

_11:58_

_: dont say I didnt warn u_

_: u are FUCKED! FUCKED I say!_

_: like hes muttering under his breath_

_: about you like a creep_

_: and u didnt want me to kill him?_

_: not even blow him up a little?_

_: shitshitshit come on now I'm worried_

_: and I dont get worried_

_: unless it's about u_

_: cuz ur kind of a shitshow no offense_

_: love u but GET OVER HERE_

–

The next hundred messages were along the same vein of discussion, but he couldn't concentrate on that right now. No, he could only stare at the new notification that popped up at the top of his phone, quiet wail accompanying it, that signified a new message. 

He hesitated, and then pressed it. 

—

**_boss_ **

_12:05_

_: get over here_

_: right now_

_: ❤_

—

He's never thrown on his clothes faster in his life. 

Shoving on his jacket, and hoping his miniskirt wasn't on backward, he cast one last, longing look at the powered off computer behind him and exited his apartment. 

Fantasies were for another time. Now he's gotta make sure he doesn't get killed in real life.

Cause it doesn't take a God to know there wouldn't be anyone there who cares to hear, see, or find him.


End file.
